


Patchwork Remnants

by DasewigGewitter



Series: Tales of the Realm Keeper [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Betrayal, Comedy, F/M, Potential Spoilers, Redemption, Romance, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasewigGewitter/pseuds/DasewigGewitter
Summary: In writing Forged Anew, I had to cut many scenes and ideas in order to keep the main story flowing as it should. This is a collection of those cut scenes that supplement the main story. Some humorous; some serious. Just as a head's up, some might contain spoilers (I'll give a warning up front on those). Rating may change depending on future chapters. Anyway, enjoy!
Series: Tales of the Realm Keeper [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106522





	1. The Limits of Genius

**Author's Note:**

> A point of clarification on the story framework and format: The primary storyteller (this tends to be the character who narrates a majority of the story) is written in 1st Person perspective. All other characters acting as storytellers are written in 3rd Person. It's a format that I'm borrowing from the fantasy author Juliet McKenna. She used it in her "Tales of Einarinn" series. This story framework is not intended to be classified as an 'x Reader'/'Reader-insert' story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scenes here occur during Chapter 10- after the second section from Loki's POV. Why? Well, there wasn't a lot of time to explore more of his and Lilith's daily activities while he was pretending to be 'Ilsa' in Danethar's house in Forged Anew. I thought it might be fun to use my own adventures in laundry as inspiration for a task these two can tackle.

As much as I wanted to work in the garden- not to mention how badly it needed attention- I had a few other chores to see to first. Since Ilsa had shown up at the house a little over a week ago, most of our time had been spent out here or in the music room. I’d left Berda with most of the household tasks that I would have normally handled. 

Not the kindest thing to do to my cook, in my opinion. I knew already what Berda would say about it; she’d chided me more than once that a Lady of my rank ought to be directing servants to take care of those tasks instead of doing them myself. But I think she knew why I didn’t insist upon having more staff in the house, and never pressed too hard.

Personally, I thought it irresponsible for a Lady of _any_ rank not to have at least some experience performing the chores of her household. How else could she expect to direct servants in a task she had never done? Or know if the hired staff was taking advantage of her ignorance?

In coming to this house from the palace, I was forced to accept that I had been very ignorant to how much work servants truly did. I had a better appreciation for the comforts I’d enjoyed while I lived there. Hadn’t even the faintest idea where the linens were stored, much less the supplies needed to clean even the simplest of messes. If the host of servants in the palace hadn’t cleaned, aired the linens and picked up after me, I would have been a sorry sight in just a few weeks’ time.

But I’d learned. Had to. Berda- despite her mild disapproval- had taught me in those early days. She’d even tried to teach me in the kitchen. Tried without much success; I was a miserable cook. Would always forget something or put in the wrong ingredient- sugar where I should have added salt. Berda decided after the fourth disaster that I’d be more help if I just steered clear of her domain.

_Speaking of help,_ I remarked to myself. _It’s long overdue that Ilsa starts picking up her share of the work around here._

Not that she _hadn’t_ been doing any. Keeping up with the garden was work. But it had been more of a means of keeping her busy while I tried to convince her to leave for good. And since she’d stubbornly refused to do so, I supposed now was as good a time as any to make better use of her help.

_And I confess myself more than a little curious to see just how much experience- or lack thereof- she has when it comes to working as a maid._

As for Ilsa, she stared at me in silent determination. No doubt waiting for me to argue on the subject of her staying. She wasn’t going to hear it. I’d said I wouldn’t repeat my entreaty for her to leave and I’d meant it. And by now she’d seen enough of my husband’s character to know what she was in for if she stayed. Any misfortune she suffered at his hands was on her own head; I couldn’t do more than I already had to prevent it.

_Short of locking the doors and instructing Berda not to let her in,_ I thought to myself. _If I really wanted to keep her away I have the means to do it._

Rather than examine the reasons why I didn’t do just that, I merely shook my head with a reluctant sigh.

“All right, then.”

When I moved to turn back towards the house, a touch of confusion colored Ilsa’s expression.

“Weren’t you planning to work out here today?”

“In a little while, but first I need to take care of a few other things.”

“Oh.” She followed me into the house. I didn’t offer any explanation at first, and her curiosity must have been piqued enough to ask, “What things?”

“The never-ending tasks that come with a household, I guess,” I replied over my shoulder. “Rooms need cleaned, laundry put away- you get the idea. I can’t leave them all up to Berda.”

I didn’t think much of the lack of response on her part, and just kept walking down the hall. Normally, I would have picked a room and worked my way through the house until I finished. But since that routine had been disrupted of late, asking my cook where I could be of most use would be a better idea. So we descended the stairs to the kitchen.

Berda turned at the sound of our footfalls, her expression slightly worried.

“Up and about, Lady? Didn’t expect you to be down so early.”

No, she wouldn’t have. Since Ilsa’s departure five days ago, I rarely descended from my room before late morning- or late afternoon if Danethar came back to the house for mid-day. A necessary precaution. Not just on account of the physical injuries I’d suffered, but also to mentally prepare myself to interact with someone else. Even if it was only Berda.

“I thought to get an earlier start today.”

She said nothing at first before directing a pointed look at Ilsa. I could tell Berda thought she had something to do with the sudden change, and was not surprised when she made a comment to that effect.

“I see the Allfather’s gift has returned after her extended absence. Thought she might have found the duties expected of her to be too difficult and decided not to come back.”

Her tone bordered on insolent. Despite the few times she and I had crossed words over the past few months, I’d never heard her so outspoken before. But as her sharp gaze bored into the woman next to me, I got the distinct impression that Berda was disappointed in her.

Ilsa took it upon herself to answer the cook’s rebuke, unflinching as she said, “I’m prepared to face any challenge put before me, Berda.”

“Are you? Look forward to seeing it.”

That retort pleased the younger maid not one bit. If I didn’t do something to intervene, the situation would devolve into a heated argument very quickly. So before Ilsa could give voice to her outrage, I spoke up.

“Is there anything Ilsa and I can do, Berda?”

She cast a look in my direction, momentarily distracted from her quarrel with the maid. Disaster averted- for now. I’d have to keep an eye on those two going forward. Or at least until whatever differences they had were settled. Maybe this offer to help her with the general chores would help with that.

“You know, around the house,” I added. “I thought it best to see what needed done before working in the garden.”

Berda considered my words for a few minutes. She looked to me, then to Ilsa, and back. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I might have seen the barest of smiles tug at the corner of her mouth. A rare sight, and more than a little unsettling.

_What could she have found so amusing about my request_? 

I didn’t ask and she wasn’t inclined to tell me. Instead, Berda gestured to the adjoining workroom with a nod.

“Aye, there is, Lady. The linens finished drying on the line this morning and could do with a bit of folding. They’re in the laundry basket there.”

“Easy day,” I answered lightly. “Is that all?”

Another long, assessing look at Ilsa before she replied, “Why don’t you see to that and we’ll talk about any other duties when you’re through.”

“Sounds fair.”

I skirted the island countertop in the center of the kitchen to get to the workroom. On the left side, food staples neatly lined the shelves; to my right, storage for various goods and supplies. The basket Berda mentioned sat on the tiled floor, contents mounded high above its rim. I regarded it with no small amount of resentment.

_Didn’t even know I_ possessed _this much linen_.

Would take the better part of an hour to get it all folded and put away. Hel, just getting the damned thing upstairs was going to be challenging enough. But far better to do the folding up there where I had more space for it. I reached for the basket handles.

“You really shouldn’t do that yourself you know.”

Ilsa’s admonishment rang sharply in my ears. She must have followed me over here, and for whatever reason, objected strongly to what I planned to do. That was her problem, not mine. And so I paid her no mind as I adjusted my grip. But before I could lift the basket, Ilsa had grabbed the rim with both hands, keeping it firmly in place.

“Lilith, don’t even think about it.”

A wealth of bossiness in that tone. As if she thought she could order _me_ around. Without even looking up, I muttered an indignant reply.

“You _can’t_ be serious.”

“I absolutely am. You’re a Lady- whether you care to think of yourself as one or not. A Lady of _rank_ , I might remind you. You shouldn’t be _killing_ yourself trying to do all this work alone. And you can’t tell me that Berda lets you do this without expressing a similar opinion.”

“She has,” I admitted coolly. “I’ve told her the same thing I’ll tell you. I don’t care what you think a _Lady_ should or shouldn’t do. I’m doing it, anyway.”

If I thought that would satisfy her, I was wrong. She didn’t budge an inch. Incredulous and somewhat furious, I tipped my gaze up to hers. From her expression, Ilsa was equally annoyed with me, although I couldn’t see why.

“ _What_ ,” I demanded irritably.

“You’re _not_ taking that upstairs on your own.”

A thread of steel ran through those words. Even after only knowing the woman five days, I already knew what it meant; Ilsa was not going to let this go. No doubt we would be locked in this impasse all morning unless I conceded. And then _nothing_ would get done.

_A Lady of rank she tells me. Ludicrous. Look at me- I can’t even maintain control of my own household,_ I berated myself bitterly. _A servant takes me to task and in the end I’m the one caving into_ her _demands. Some Lady, indeed._

But cave I most certainly did, though not without letting her know I wasn’t happy about it.

“I trust you’ve a better idea, then? One way or another this has to get upstairs. So I’m all ears.”

She eyed the pile of assorted linens, saying nothing at first. I merely waited. At last, she seemed to make a decision. Rather than tell me what it was, though, Ilsa turned back to the kitchen.

“Berda- do you have a second basket? Anything big enough to hold some of this?”

I was surprised at her solution, but probably shouldn’t have been. In fact, had I thought of it from the beginning, I could have saved myself the fruitless argument. But I hadn’t. Didn’t cross my mind at all to split the work with Ilsa. Why?

_You were too busy trying to prove that you could do it on your own, that’s why._

While I was cringing at my own self-criticism, my cook had answered Ilsa’s question.

“Might try the corner behind the dry goods.”

Sure enough, when I rummaged around the sacks of flour and other grains, a round wicker tub sat at the bottom of the pile. With a forceful tug, I wrenched it free and set it beside the other. By then, Ilsa was once more facing me. She watched in stoic silence as I stuffed a fair portion of the laundry into the second basket.

That done, I glanced up again and queried, “Is this less objectionable?”

“It’ll have to do,” she muttered under her breath, hoisting one to waist level. “Shall we?”

I grabbed the other and led the way out through the kitchen. Ilsa followed behind. As we passed Berda, she never said a word or seemed to stop what she was doing. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught her watching our procession with keen interest. Couldn’t be certain, but she might have chuckled lightly once we reached the top of the stairs.

_What is going on with everyone? Today is sure gearing up to be a strange one._

* * *

_I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,_ Loki told himself with a heavy, inward sigh. _Carrying laundry like a common servant._ Me. _A prince of Asgard._

Couldn’t be helped. In fact, he ought to feel fortunate that he’d gotten this far masquerading as ‘Ilsa’ without having to do any real work. Lilith had kept them to the garden, and that could hardly be considered all that arduous. Certainly not what he’d thought he’d be doing when he first conceived of this scheme.

Loki had begun to wonder if she would ever expect ‘Ilsa’ to earn her keep as a maid. Today appeared to be that day. And so here he was, trudging up the stairs with this awkward basket.

_Could have just let Lilith carry it herself,_ a nagging whisper reminded him. Right on cue, as usual. _Didn’t you hear her? She wasn’t interested in letting ‘Ilsa’ help her in the first place. You did that all on your own._

An action that concerned Loki more than he cared to admit. Not just the things he’d said during his argument with her, but also the flash of anger that had given rise to it in the first place. That was _twice_ today he’d felt like he was losing control of his own game.

He refused to let that thought take hold, and found a better explanation to offer in return. _Suppose she_ was _expecting ‘Ilsa’ to volunteer,_ Loki proposed rationally. _I’m playing a part, remember?_

 _And just what part are you trying to play now,_ it struck back mercilessly. _So hard to keep track when it changes so often._

Loki ignored that last comment, refusing to engage yet another debate with that wretched voice in his head. Just a rogue thought stirring up unnecessary trouble where none truly existed. Nothing to worry about. But dismissing the subject wasn’t so easily done. 

His thoughts circled back to it despite all efforts to move on. He’d seen Lilith reach for that basket and his temper snapped. Anyone with sense could see it would be far too heavy for her to carry all the way upstairs alone. And yet she would have done it, anyway. Why? Did she think she could convince ‘Ilsa’ to leave if she kept pretending she didn’t need any servants?

_Lilith doesn’t need servants,_ he amended sarcastically. _She needs a damned keeper to protect her from herself. Which is a full time job in and of itself._

_A challenge unlikely to leave time for boredom, wouldn’t you say?_

 _I didn’t say_ I _was volunteering._

This time, the voice had no witty reply; silence was its own answer. As he set his foot on the final stair to the main level, Loki repeated sullenly. _I am_ not _Lilith’s damn keeper or anything_ else _for that matter. I’m just here to ruin Danethar and to use her gates to escape Asgard._

He kept repeating those words the whole length of the hallway. Lilith led them to back to her room, temporarily balancing her burden against one hip as she turned the knob to open the door. Once inside she nodded to the bed.

“Might as well set these down over there.”

Loki followed her lead while taking stock of the room itself. He’d seen it earlier- briefly- when waiting for her to emerge from the bathing room. The last time he’d been to the house, it had been a battle scene- littered with the remnants of a shattered life. Aftermath from the night Danethar had nearly beaten her to death.

Lilith had cleared all that away in the five days that had gone by. In place of the mess…nothing. Aside from the bed, dresser and wardrobe, the room was empty. No art on the walls or anything personal lying around. Just a depressingly barren space. 

_I had better accommodations in my cell in the palace dungeon._ After a slight pause, he reconsidered that particular claim. _Well, except for the view._

Lilith must have noticed the direction of ‘Ilsa’s’ attention. She combed her fingers through her hair with a sigh.

“I suppose it looks a bit sparse in here.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but…when are you going to redecorate this room?”

“I’m not.”

“Say again?”

“I’m not going to redecorate. It’ll just stay this way.”

Loki frowned, gaze sweeping the room again.

“You can’t seriously live like this.”

“It’s not worth it, Ilsa.” She retrieved a hand towel from the top of her pile and folded it neatly. “I’ve already gone through this at least three or four times already. If I have anything of personal value to me, Danethar will just take it away. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

The words were spoken with a calm acceptance, which irked him enough to comment.

“So you’re giving up- letting him win.”

“I’m sure Danethar might see it that way. But who really won? How is he supposed to have fun wrecking my room if there’s nothing in it? And I care a lot less about having a bunch of pointless things than he cares about destroying them.”

She wasn’t lying. Possessions mattered very little to Lilith. Loki wondered how much of that had been thanks to lessons Danethar had taught her. He suspected she had been more sentimental about her belongings before her life with the warrior. Only natural that she would have developed a sense of detachment in the months since, convincing herself not to care about the things she owned.

_Except, perhaps, for that book she gave to ‘Ilsa’ not so long ago. Lilith certainly cared whether Danethar destroyed_ that _particular possession._

He debated the wisdom of pointing that out to her, but ultimately decided this wasn’t the right time to mention the book. That particular puzzle could wait; Loki had others that required solving first. For now, he was content to prod her further about the statement she’d just made, and replied with an artless shrug.

“Based on what I know of women, most of them wouldn’t choose that particular answer.”

“Most of them wouldn’t survive this life for very long, either,” she answered with a wry smile. “You’ve gotta get tough or die.”

_In this house, words like that are no laughing matter, Lilith._ Danethar’s relentless abuse should have killed her weeks ago. _And yet she stands here making jokes about it._ Loki found he couldn’t share in the humor. Not today. Not after what he’d seen earlier when he’d first arrived.

Lilith sighed at his deadpan expression, returning her attention to the laundry. And having run out of excuses, Loki supposed it was time ‘Ilsa’ joined her at the task. How hard could it be, anyway? Suppressing a sigh, he tugged at the edge of what he’d thought was a pillowcase. 

It wasn’t. Yard after yard of rose-colored linen draped over his arm. Definitely a bedsheet. As Loki detangled himself from its billowy folds, he considered his options to attack and solve this puzzle. Start with the edges- the corners?

He found one and then another. But when Loki went to match them together, something seemed amiss. The edges wouldn’t line up at all. He dared a sideways glance to Lilith to gauge her reaction. Luckily, she was too distracted by her own task to pay attention to him.

A second attempt finally succeeded in folding the sheet in half. After that, he found it much easier to manage. Fold after fold created an ever smaller rectangle, until Loki felt he’d gone far enough. Or at least it _looked_ about the same size as the stack of other assorted linens that Lilith had already folded. So he set his finished work on top and moved onto the next item in his basket.

_Just get this over with. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can try to get her out in the garden to talk about her gates._

Either way, after having dealt with the bedsheet without too much trouble, Loki figured nothing else would be much of a challenge. He spied more of the same rose linen, and he guessed it might be the matching pillowcase.

It wasn’t. Not even close.

_Oh gods, what nightmare_ is _this?_

Instead of straight-edged corners, these bunched and curled in on themselves. Elastic? Undaunted, he set to work at folding the material into something resembling a rectangle. The first try was a miserable failure, leaving him to start over; the second wasn’t any better. As the third shaped up to be the worst disaster yet, frustration set in.

_I am a genius. I’ve mastered the arts, sciences and magic. Designed schemes that required exacting tactical expertise. All of those things are far more complex than_ laundry. _Why am I having such a problem!?_

This time his fraying temper escaped as an ominous hiss, and Loki did his best not to tear up the badly crumpled sheet as he tossed it back in the basket. Too annoyed to care that he was making a poor show of being the maid ‘Ilsa’ claimed to be. Too annoyed to care that Lilith had noticed.

_This should have been easy._

* * *

I glanced to my right for the tenth time, catching Ilsa’s agitated flurry of motions. While I hadn’t been expecting a stellar performance, I had thought her competent enough to muddle through something as simple as laundry. But Ilsa was acting as if she’d never _seen_ a bedsheet before. Even the most inexperienced maid would know _something._

_Unless she’s the spy you suspected she was the first day she arrived, and isn’t a servant at all._

A distinct possibility that couldn’t be ruled out. In moments like this, the evidence suggested it might be true. I still didn’t know what she was, or why she was here, after all. But I set that thought aside to comment on the situation at hand.

“So, uh…having a bit of trouble there?”

“Obviously,” Ilsa grumbled. She held up the rumpled sheet. “How is anyone supposed to make sense of something like this!?”

Rather than remind her that a maid shouldn’t be asking such a question of her employer, I merely replied with a casual shrug, “It just takes practice.”

“There aren’t any straight edges at all,” she complained. “Impossible to make something like this square. It just can’t be done.”

“Sure it can.”

Ilsa gestured to the basket. “Be my guest, then. I’d love to see it done.”

I couldn’t suppress a smirk as I cleared off the bed for room to work. Ilsa watched, silent as I found two corners and fitted my index fingers in the pockets caused by the bunched elastic on the short edge. Laying the sheet out flat, I let those points form the corners, found the other two and nested them inside to create a rough rectangular shape.

The one edge was still a little bowed; I folded it inward just enough to straighten it out. Folding the sheet into thirds down the long edge, I created a long narrow swath. No trouble at all to draw the ends inward before I folded it one last time into a neat rectangle.

Finished, I turned to Ilsa, but her eyes were fixated on the bed. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking by the expression on her face. Disbelief and perhaps a touch of resentment. She certainly didn’t want to accept how easy I’d made it look after she’d had so much trouble. That much I could tell. After a long silence, Ilsa finally spoke.

“Never,” she muttered.

“Never what,” I asked.

“I never would have thought of that solution,” Ilsa admitted reluctantly. After a long pause, she ventured to ask me, “What made you think to do it like that?”

“I don’t know. Just seemed the most logical at the time.” She continued to frown at the neat pile of rose-colored linens. I took pity on her ego and told her, “Don’t worry about it- I spent a good hour or two trying to sort it out when I first came to live here and had to do this all on my own. In the palace, servants did this sort of thing for me.”

My confession must have helped her feel a little less embarrassed. Finally, her gaze left the bed to cast a bemused look in my direction.

“So, is that an admission that you _don’t_ naturally excel at everything?”

“Since when have I ever said I did?”

“You didn’t, but you certainly give the impression easily enough.”

Now I was frowning at her- in consternation. Couldn’t tell if she was only jesting with me, or if that was intended to bait my temper. I could take it as an insult, and start another argument with her. Really wasn’t in the mood, though.

“Not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not…but I’m going to, anyway.”

She chuckled lightly, and assured me, “Of course it was.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced. The tone was a little too cheeky to be entirely sincere. As was her wry grin.

“Hmmm…” I hummed noncommittally while sorting through the remaining linens yet to be folded. When I spied a slate grey sheet with fitted corners, I pulled it free and tossed it at Ilsa. She managed to catch it just in time. “Shall we find out if you were paying attention, then?”

Ilsa glanced dubiously to the bedsheet and then back to me. I raised an eyebrow in good-natured challenge, which she accepted with all the stubborn determination I’d come to expect out of her.

“Have no fear, Lilith. I am confident that I won’t forget this particular lesson any time soon.”

She proceeded to fold the sheet, emulating the steps I had shown her only a few minutes ago. And while it may have taken her a little longer- nor was the end result quite as tidy- she did manage to accomplish the task. Ilsa shot me a triumphant look.

“What did I tell you,” she boasted. “Easy.”

“Easy, huh,” I queried with a quiet laugh. “Well then, what say I leave the last few bedsheets for you while I finish the towels and pillow cases? Is it a deal?”

A quick daring look to the half-full basket at my feet. Ilsa was obviously calculating the amount of work in her mind. As a mischievous smile played on her lips, she gave me her answer.

“Deal.”


	2. Cooks in the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place during Chapter 13 of Forged Anew- right after the scene in the garden, where Lilith has just found out about her ability to create gates to other Realms. Warning- potential spoilers for the ending of Part I in Forged Anew.
> 
> Turns out, Lilith's cook, Berda, isn't just a cook. She'll start out by giving us her perspective on how Lilith ended up with Danethar, and her impression of 'Ilsa'. But she can't stay to keep an eye on them, as she needs to run up to the palace for a meeting with Odin. The meeting provides more details about Lilith's history, as well as some potentially troubling news about what is going on in the present. Odin will send Berda back to the house to keep watch on Loki and Lilith.
> 
> While she's out, 'Ilsa's' conned Lilith into learning another duet. The two of them spend some time in the conservatory...until Lilith tries to send her maid away before Danethar comes home. The resulting argument will take them to the kitchen, where they discover Berda is gone (and that there's no evening meal). Loki will goad Lilith into cooking it herself, which ends in utter disaster. Although Loki is amused, Berda is by no means happy when she comes home to see it.

Berda scrubbed furiously, letting the crusted pot take the brunt of her frustration. As the senior- and _only-_ servant in Danethar’s home, she had plenty of reasons to be frustrated. Most of them stemming from the man himself, if she could call him a man. More like a monster.

Danethar was a warrior, charged with defending Asgard and keeping the general peace. A few months ago, he’d been part of a successful campaign against the Dark Elves. The Allfather had rewarded him with this house…and a wife. Lilith. The elevated status gave him pride; the wife did not. For her he felt only contempt, and made no secret of that fact. Danethar was always telling her that she was worthless or finding fault with her. And when he really wanted to hurt her- which was often- he used more than words.

Berda witnessed it all, guilt-ridden that she could do nothing to stop it. Perhaps even worse was knowing that she was partly responsible.

When the Allfather had come to her all those years ago to engage her services as a mage, she had no idea _this_ would be the outcome. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have been so quick to agree. Odin would have simply approached a different mage, of course, but maybe that would have been for the best. Another mage might have had better luck with the enchantments he wanted- might not have made the same miscalculation _she_ had. The one that had brought Lilith here.

To Danethar.

Which was how Berda came to be here, too. The Allfather had summoned her to an audience immediately following the victory feast. He’d found a way to untangle her error at last, but required a commitment from her to do it. Berda hadn’t been very enthusiastic about the plan from the start. Only a sense of obligation made her agree to pose as a servant in Danethar’s home, all the while monitoring the stability of her enchantments. Odin was especially worried about the one preventing Lilith from opening gates between realms. Didn’t seem all that hard.

It hadn’t taken Berda long to realize just how wrong she was. Two days into her new position, she made an excuse to get out of the house. She’d _demanded_ an audience with the Allfather, sure that he couldn’t really have meant for Lilith to stay with the likes of Danethar. And while Odin agreed to see her, and listened to her heated account patiently, none of it produced the reaction Berda had hoped to see. Quite the opposite.

He’d _expected_ Danethar’s behavior. Had _known_ of his history with women. All of it was part of his plan, and Odin made it clear he expected her to play her part, or he would find someone else who would. The warning behind those words implied that Berda might find herself in a situation even more unpleasant if he thought that he couldn’t trust her. So she’d resigned herself to see this through. Because of a promise Odin made- that one day _he_ would be drawn here.

Loki. The God of Mischief.

For two months, Berda had kept vigilant. Week after week, she gave the Allfather the same report: No sign of the god. And every week, Lilith’s condition grew worse. Danethar honed his cruelty to a sharp edge, and not just with her. Berda heard whispers among the servants in other households that he was preying on their ladies, too. The Allfather had listened to those reports with grave attentiveness, but insisted that he would not abandon his plan. Berda didn’t hold out much hope for anything to come of it.

Until about ten days ago, when a woman calling herself ‘Ilsa’ arrived with the message that Odin had sent her to be Lilith’s personal maid. Even if Berda hadn’t known it to be a lie, she would have known who was really behind the disguise. Features too familiar for anyone who’d spent as much time around him as she had and an attitude that all but declared him for who he was. What inspired the visit was less obvious, but as Odin had ordered, Berda didn’t interfere. Didn’t let on that she recognized him.

Now over a week later, Berda still wasn’t entirely sure what Loki was after. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure he knew, either, despite having found out about Lilith’s gates. How the enchantment broke, she couldn’t say, but break it had. Berda had seen the first signs of it only days before Loki had arrived. Doubtful that was anything more than an unlucky coincidence. Didn’t change the fact that she was creating them again…and he’d _seen_ her do it. And if she’d known that before going to see Odin last week, she would have had no choice but to inform him. Probably should have at least told him that the enchantment had failed, but Berda held it back; she couldn’t say why.

_That could have been a huge mistake._

Definitely could have been, if Loki had taken the opportunity to manipulate Lilith into opening a gate to Jotunheim- or worse, Midgard- so that he could escape. Strange that he didn’t. Berda thought at first that he merely needed a few days to come up with plans of what to do once he’d left Asgard. But a few days came and went, and he did something far stranger. He stopped coming altogether. For five days. Berda didn’t know what to make of that. Nor of what ‘Ilsa’s’ sudden return yesterday meant.

_No answers, only questions._

Something was going on, without a doubt. Something Odin hadn’t explained to her. And since Berda was due up at the palace today for her weekly report, perhaps she might get the Allfather to be a little more forthcoming in what he knew. _Speaking of_ …she glanced at the time and swore under her breath. Late. The afternoon had gotten away from her. No time to get anything prepped for the evening meal if she hoped to get to her appointment on time. The remaining dishes she left in the sink, drying her hands on a nearby towel.

_Best let the Lady know that supper will be a bit late today,_ Berda thought. Hardly ideal, as Lilith had refused anything for the midday meal today. If ‘Ilsa’ really was the maid she was pretending to be, she could just order _her_ to get to work on prepping the food. _It would almost be worth the look on the prince’s face to give the order, anyway._ But she wouldn’t. Too much of a risk that she’d arouse Lilith’s suspicions about her new maid.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Berda heard voices floating in from the garden. No surprise. Lilith spent most of her time out there, even when ‘Ilsa’ came around. Berda figured the two of them were setting some of the flower beds to rights. She couldn’t help the smirk at the picture of Loki pulling weeds. Although not quite as satisfying as what Lilith had roped him into doing yesterday. Berda did her best to school her features so as not to give away those thoughts and stepped up to the archway leading to the side yard.

She arrived in time to see Lilith collapse to the ground. Behind her, the air shimmered with the unmistakable signs of a gate and then it was gone. Loki stood slightly ahead of Berda and slightly to the right. He stared for a moment where the gate had been before crossing the garden to kneel next to Lilith. As he seemed unaware of her presence, Berda didn’t announce herself. She could afford a minute or two to see what he would do next.

“Why is it that it always seems I’m arriving just in time to find you up to your neck in trouble,” the god muttered as he carefully shifted her onto her back. “One of these days I won’t be here to pull you out of it.”

_Is it just me or did that almost sound like he_ wants _to be?_

While she mulled that thought over, Lilith revived from her faint. She exchanged words with ‘Ilsa’ about the gateway. Berda debated whether or not to interrupt their conversation. Or whether she ought to risk being late to her meeting with Odin in order to wait for a natural pause. She was sure to hear plenty that the Allfather would find useful.

_I’ll leave a note,_ she decided before turning back into the house. _And I’ll be sure to tell Odin all about this when I get to the palace. See what he has to say._

* * *

I hadn’t wanted to agree to another duet. Not after the last one. And certainly not after the whole ‘doubles’ conversation about Liam a moment ago. Now was not the time I wanted to be shoulder to shoulder with the woman on a piano bench. And yet here I was for some perverse reason, facing that very prospect for the next hour or so.

“All right, what’ll it be this time? And mind you- try to keep it _simple_. Okay?”

Might as well have saved my breath, since Ilsa hadn’t paid me any attention. Instead, she’d opened one of the cabinets on the far wall. The one containing my library of sheet music. She thumbed through the collection once or twice before withdrawing a sheaf that interested her. I craned my neck to read the title and tried not to cringe at the thought of sight-reading.

Ilsa brought the music over to the piano and opened it to the first page. Despite my reluctance, I drew close enough to get a good look. Almost immediately, I noticed something odd about this particular ‘duet’.

“What the…cello and piano? Ilsa, what _is_ this?”

“I thought perhaps it’d be fairer if we both had to learn something new.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” As I continued to study the music, I mused, “I’m guessing I’m meant to play the cello voice in this one- unless you were extending that ‘leaning something new’ to an instrument.”

“I think I’ll stick with the one I know, thanks.”

“Still doesn’t mean this’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Looking to back out of the deal?”

Oh that tone. Certainly heard it often enough over the past week or so to know what she was up to. I could just throttle the woman when I could hear that blend of sly challenge and teasing laughter behind the words. The kind of tone that goaded a person into doing something no matter what it was. Or why they shouldn’t. Hardly a surprise, then, that I gave my response before I could stop myself.

“Not a chance.”

Ilsa smirked knowingly, but made no comment. She settled on the bench and lifted the lid that kept dust off the keys. As for myself, I plucked the pages intended for me from the leaflet, leaving behind the ones meant for her. If we had any hope of making progress on this today, we had our work cut out for us. Could even take more than a few days to put it together.

_Well, I suppose having a long-term project will pass the time._

I sat in my chair, arranged the first two pages on the stand and reached for my cello. For a few minutes, I worked through the opening bars. At least Ilsa had picked a piece that, while not as simple as I might have hoped, was a leisurely sort of melody. In the back of my mind, the notes took on the image of a pastoral landscape. Hills, valleys rolling endlessly under a cloudless sky and the wind meandering over them. Peaceful.

_Not an adjective that finds much use around here._

On my right, Ilsa was picking through limpid chords meant to complement the melody. From what I heard, she was progressing much more quickly than I was. How I envied her sight-reading skills; my own left much to be desired. Probably because I avoided doing it whenever possible. And so, gritting my teeth in concentration, I set myself to the task of learning the first page.

A half hour later, Ilsa turned around on the bench to look in my direction and asked, “You want to give it a try?”

_Not really._

I might have tried to buy myself some more time, but she gave me that look. Like she already knew what I’d say. How she could fit in a whole tirade about self-confidence and not worrying about what other people thought into a single frown I’d never know. But I heard it. All of it.

_Best not to make her say it out loud, then, or you just have to hear it twice._

“Oh all right.”

My part began first, and despite a few self-conscious wobbles, I held onto the melody as Ilsa’s part joined in. The image in my mind changed, and now a deep river flowed amongst the hills. Every now and then, I’d hear the trill of rapids tumbling over rocks. With the two parts put together, keeping a steady pace became much easier for me. The chords measured out the time as I held each note before moving onto the next. Still a wrong one here and there, but I pushed onward instead of freezing up.

A quarter way into the next page, I had to stop. Ilsa glanced over her shoulder.

“Problem?”

“That’s as far as I’ve practiced. Haven’t gotten the feel of the rest yet.”

“Oh.” A pause before she suggested, “We could try the first part again if you like.”

I nodded, picking up my bow to begin.

“Sure.”

We played through a few more times before both of us decided we’d had enough for the afternoon. It was getting on towards evening, and I was concerned that Danethar would be home any minute. Berda ought to be coming in to announce the evening meal, anyway. Another battle over whether or not I would eat. And given Ilsa’s comments in the garden, no doubt she’d gladly become my cook’s ally on that front.

_All the more reason to see the woman out before they get the chance._

“I think it’d be best if you were leaving, Ilsa. The afternoon is late.”

She closed the lid over the keys and offered a grim smile.

“Still trying to shelter me from Danethar, Lilith?” I didn’t deny it, merely returning the cello to its stand and gathering up the music. “I thought we settled the issue yesterday. I’m not going anywhere. And if I recall correctly, you said you wouldn’t trouble yourself over that decision.”

“Ilsa…”

“Tell me I’m wrong, then.”

I couldn’t.

And yet I couldn’t bring myself to let her deal with Danethar on her own. Having been caught in my own hypocrisy was irritating, to say the least. Ilsa’s defiant expression wasn’t helping my mood, either. I glared back at her and walked out of the room. And since the woman knew better than to bring up the subject in front of Berda, I headed down to the kitchen. Even an argument about food was preferable to revisiting this topic.

Only when I got to the bottom of the stairs, my steadfast cook was nowhere in sight. Had Berda gone out? I found that hard to believe, what with the dinner hour fast approaching. Nothing had been prepared, either, from what I could see. But gone she was.

Footsteps behind me indicated that Ilsa had come to investigate. I advanced further into the room, and spied a fragment of parchment lying on the counter. Without acknowledging the maid’s presence, I picked it up and read the message written on the verso.

_Urgent errand. Dinner will be late this evening. My apologies, Lady. -Berda_

Late. Just how late? It didn’t matter to me, of course. But if she wasn’t back by the time Danethar returned home, this could get very ugly. Silent, I considered my options.

“Lilith? What does it say?”

“See for yourself,” I replied, handling the note over.

Ilsa read it, then glanced around the kitchen before pointing out, “Well, that doesn’t give much of an indication when she’ll return, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Dare I ask if you ate before I arrived?” At my lack of response, she sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I can wait. It’s no big deal.” 

I didn’t mention Danethar, not wanting to give her another reason to try to stick around. But as it turned out, Ilsa had her own ideas.

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“Could just fend for yourself.”

“Ooooh no. No way.” I backed away from her, hands raised in a gesture of panicked denial. “I don’t do cooking.”

Ilsa’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at the vehemence in my tone.

“Why not? After the speech you gave yesterday, I would have thought you wouldn’t have a problem preparing your own meals.”

“It’s not- no, I don’t.”

“Then why…?”

I didn’t want to tell her the truth, but she wasn’t going to let the subject go. A frustrated snarl crept into my voice as I admitted, “I can’t cook.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I said, I _can’t cook_.”

I couldn’t quite name the expression on her face, but I knew we were both in for trouble when she stepped around the waist-high counter and braced her hands on its immaculate surface.

“I don’t believe you.”

* * *

The page closed the door, leaving Odin facing his next appointment in private. A prospect both necessary and daunting. Necessary because he couldn’t afford anyone overhearing their discussion; daunting because the woman now sitting before him wouldn’t hold back when it came to speaking her mind. And given the assignment he’d tasked her with…Berda’s opinions could be quite caustic.

“I thank you, Lady Berda, for your diligence in keeping these appointments.”

The woman adjusted her skirts and stared him directly in the eye.

“I agreed to play my role and I aim to see it done properly, Allfather.” With her next breath, she added tightly, “However long it may take.”

“I understand that this has not been easy.”

“Watching that animal commit abuse upon abuse? I can’t imagine what would be easy about that.”

This was not a new topic. Berda found some way to mention it every time she came to see him. Nothing he could say on his part would give her any satisfaction. Oh he knew of reasons that might help her to understand- even possibly even accept- the sacrifice being made. But revealing those reasons was far too dangerous. He couldn’t afford to tell her that the fate of Asgard was tied to the woman in her charge. So Odin accepted the rebuke in resigned silence.

“As always, your point is duly noted. But we’re here to discuss your observations since our last meeting.”

Berda was silent for a time, clearly weighing his words before offering any of her own. Eventually, she decided to let the matter go.

“Been a strange week. Disappeared for most of it- after a trip to get the Lady some clothes. Didn’t come back until yesterday morning. And again this afternoon.”

“Did he- and how did Lilith react? To the disappearance and the return.”

“Don’t know what she thought of ‘Ilsa’ staying away, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled about seeing her back at the house. Argued something fierce about it.”

Arguing. That was something Odin hadn’t expected to hear. Not from the young woman who’d lived in the palace, who’d always been quiet and unassuming- hardly making her presence known, much less opposed the opinions of someone else. The woman who’d accepted his decision to marry her to Danethar and the warrior’s abuses. No, that woman never argued with anyone.

But the seven year old child who’d become his ward after her parents died…oh yes, _that_ Lilith had made her objections known to _anyone_. Only a complex web of enchantments had been able to subdue such a strong-willed temperament for all these years. Given what Berda had just said, it sounded like Lilith was showing signs of overcoming even that. Odin was curious to find out how Loki was coping with someone who didn’t just give into what he wanted. Especially since he couldn’t do much about it while remaining in disguise.

“And what was the prince’s reaction to that?”

“Argued right back. Says she’s not going to tell him what he- rather, ‘Ilsa’, I guess- can or can’t do. Consequences from Danethar be damned.”

“So he’s determined to stay.”

“From the look of it, yes. I’d have to say that if doing housework yesterday didn’t chase him off, nothing will.”

“You said-”

“Housework. I did.” She cracked the barest smile at that. “Took Lilith to task over trying to do it all herself, which the Lady did _not_ like hearing, even if she _needed_ the lecture.”

Interesting behavior for Loki. Berda had told him last week that the god had also been helping in Lilith’s garden. Very interesting, indeed. And encouraging, as far as what he’d hoped these visits would tell him about his plans. But he still couldn’t feel confident that what Berda told him was proof of a change. Not after the report he’d received from Heimdall only a few weeks ago- just before Loki had gone to Danethar’s home.

_According to the Watchman, Lilith’s temper is not the only thing to have resurfaced lately._

If Loki had somehow discovered her ability to create gates to other realms, then he had to be very sure that all of this wasn’t a means of using them for himself. Particularly to retake control of Midgard. After the destruction the god had almost unleashed- and _did_ unleash- upon that realm, Odin could not afford to let that ambition loose again.

_And this time, if he does not take the path he’s offered, I will have no choice but to resort to the most extreme measures._

He didn’t want to take things that far; Odin regretted the actions he’d taken already.

“Was that all, Allfather?”

Berda’s question jarred him back into the present. No doubt she was keen to be headed back to Danethar’s before anyone suspected where she’d gone. But he needed to ask a few more questions.

“Not quite, Lady Berda. I wanted to speak to you about a serious matter. About Lilith’s gates.”

The woman folded her hands in her lap and grew very quiet, a guilty expression tightening the corners of her mouth. So, she’d known that her enchantments had disintegrated enough that Lilith could use her ability again. Likely had known it last week, even though she hadn’t mentioned it. Odin was deeply concerned, but did not press her to answer. He merely waited until she chose to speak.

“They’re back,” she admitted slowly. “She doesn’t know that I’ve seen them, and didn’t know about them at all until this afternoon.”

“This afternoon. Would that be around the same time as when Loki returned?”

“I’m afraid so, but he’d already seen them last week. Right before he disappeared for several days.”

Odin did not let her see how much those words troubled him. And troubling they most certainly were. He’d recognized the signs that Berda’s enchantment was failing months ago. It would only have been a matter of time before it broke altogether. Unable to prevent that, he had taken steps to curb the daydreaming that created the gates. Namely, Danethar. But even that hadn’t worked. Odin could only let this play out as it would. Let Loki make his choice and hope Lilith convinced him to make the right one.

He must have been silent longer than he thought, for Berda spoke after a time.

“There is one other thing I ought to mention. Something that I found a little surprising.”

“And that is?”

“She fainted. If she is creating those gates again, it’s a massive energy drain, and Lilith’s not eating enough to compensate for it.”

“That’s not unusual.”

“Noooo, but Loki’s reaction to seeing it happen was.” Odin indicated that she should continue. “He was…concerned. About her welfare. And this wasn’t the first time. He’s been very vocal with her about Danethar’s abuse. With me, too. I don’t think he saw me yesterday when Thor came by for a visit, and Danethar wanted to speak with ‘Ilsa’ alone. I saw the look on his face when the man turned his back. There’s a hatred there for the warrior, Allfather. A hatred I didn’t see in him when he first arrived.”

Odin didn’t say much on what he thought those observations could mean, but he nodded to let Berda know that he would consider them carefully in the coming week.

“I thank you for relaying what you’ve seen, Lady Berda. Keep vigilant over the next week until we meet again.” He paused before leveling a direct stare at her. “And if Loki shows any interest in using the gets to escape Asgard, you will inform me _at once_.”

“Yes, Allfather.”

“In that case, I believe that concludes our audience for today.”

Berda stood, though she seemed to be debating asking a question. In the end, she bowed and turned away. Odin sat back in his chair, signaling the page now awaiting his next order to leave him in solitude. He needed time to think on what he’d just heard.

* * *

_Well, Lilith was right. She_ can’t _cook._

Loki surveyed the disaster with equal parts horror and amusement, trying to keep a straight face as Lilith glared at him. A silent warning not to make any comment if ‘Ilsa’ valued her position- or her good health. But the sight of the smoldering remains of… _whatever_ she’d tried to put together was just too much. A tickle in the back of his throat swelled into a chuckle that ended in a fit of laughter. Lilith’s glare sharpened; didn’t help one bit, which just fueled her outrage.

“It’s not funny!”

At that moment, a tower of dirty measuring cups and spoons collapsed, scattering across the countertop and spattering a glob of a ‘sauce’ of some kind onto her cheek. Lilith never broke their gaze as she swiped it away with her thumb. Didn’t say a word, either, apparently prepared to wait out ‘Ilsa’ as long as she had to. Loki felt obligated to answer, only he was finding it hard to stop laughing long enough to get a word out.

“Oh come on,” he managed to protest with an encouraging grin. “You have to admit it’s a _little_ funny.”

Lilith crossed her arms and said nothing.

“I mean… _look_ at this place. How can you not find it the least amusing that the kitchen is a total wreck and _that-_ ” he pointed to the ruined dish between them. “-is the end result?”

He could see plainly that she wasn’t about to agree with him. No matter how right he was. After letting go of a breath in what resembled an ominous hiss, she muttered, “Never should have let you bait me into this. Berda is going to murder me when she sees this place.”

Oh Berda would be furious. Picturing the expression on the cook’s face kindled another bout of laughter. That is, until Lilith nodded pointedly in his direction.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, since she’ll be just as quick to give you Hel over this, too. Especially when she learns it was _your_ idea.”

If she was trying to threaten him, it very nearly worked. At the very least, those words were sobering enough to cool his amusement. He’d have to take whatever tongue lashing the cook deigned give him, given that ‘Ilsa’ couldn’t shrug off the rebuke if she wanted to stick around. And stay she certainly must if he hoped to figure out Lilith’s gates. Not a thrilling prospect; Lilith proposed one far worse.

“In fact, I wouldn’t put it past her to insist you put the kitchen back to rights.”

_Gods, she truly might,_ he thought with no small amount of horror. _Folding linens was one thing, but washing dishes and…scrubbing counters? It’s too much. I won’t do it._

_Thought you said you’d face_ any _challenge._

Oh that was just what he needed. Couldn’t go an hour without hearing some snide remark from his least favorite companion. Yet again, throwing his own words back in his face. This time reminding him something he’d said to Berda only yesterday. He hadn’t meant to say them, but had been provoked when she aimed a jab at his pride- which Loki couldn’t convince himself wasn’t intentional. The cook’s attitude upon ‘Ilsa’s’ return had conveyed a clear message of disapproval and disappointment. And though it _shouldn’t_ , the opinion rankled.

_I would hardly call kitchen work a challenge,_ he retorted at last. Aloud, his reply to Lilith was equally confident, if not exactly truthful.

“She’s too particular about this place to let anyone else touch the mess. You watch, she’ll do it herself.”

They fell to silence again, both staring at the completely inedible concoction on the counter. He still couldn’t believe just how awful Lilith was at cooking. No sense of what she should do. Even though he’d never so much as picked up a mixing bowl, he was sure he couldn’t have done worse.

He studied Lilith from across the counter; she was focused on the dish, expression grimly dissatisfied, and didn’t notice. She poked at the charred contents and let out a dispirited sigh. Reminded Loki of yesterday’s adventure with the laundry. Like him, she didn’t take failure too well.

_But she’s a lot better at giving support to someone else who’s having trouble,_ he admitted. _Quick to salvage ‘Ilsa’s’ pride instead of making fun of her._ That thought almost produced a twinge of guilt for having laughed a moment ago. But then Loki hadn’t realized just how upset she’d be over this. Didn’t know it would be that big of a deal.

_Didn’t you?_

Okay, maybe he did. Or at least should have. Especially given the way she’d admitted to the shortcoming in the beginning. That twinge grew stronger, and Loki found himself feeling genuinely sorry for having teased her.

“Lilith?”

“I don’t know why I can’t manage something so basic,” she answered, still not looking at him. “Berda must have tried to teach me a dozen times. You’d think I would have retained _something_.”

She picked up the entire dish and carried it to a large bin meant for collecting food scraps, busying herself with scraping everything onto the pile. He watched, unsure what to say. Words of consolation weren’t exactly Loki’s forte. For some time, only the sounds of a wooden spoon on glass filled the kitchen.

“I can’t swim.”

The scraping stopped. Lilith glanced over her shoulder at him, the picture of surprise.

“You…what?”

“Swim.” Loki shrugged. “I can’t do it.”

A personal failure that he never mentioned. Not ever. Thor had made his life miserable over it when they were young, though he didn’t dare bring it up once they were adults. So why he’d blurted it out now, Loki couldn’t say.

“Oh.” She thought for a moment before adding wryly, “I guess I won’t be daring you to prove _that_. Might feel bad if I goaded you into drowning.”

_One of the few who would. I’m sure plenty of others wouldn’t lament to see me dead._

 _Ilsa,_ the wretched voice interjected quickly. _She’s talking about Ilsa. Or don’t you remember who you’re pretending to be?_

He did not appreciate the reminder, true as it may be. _Well, since ‘Ilsa’ doesn’t really exist, no one will lament her death, either,_ he snapped back irritably.

No response. And now Lilith was studying him with a remorseful expression.

“Sorry. I should know better than to be flippant. I didn’t mean to make light of something serious.”

He might have been able to reassure her that an apology wasn’t necessary if not for the outraged gasp behind them.

“What in the name of the nine realms happened in here!?”

They both spun around to see Berda standing in the doorway, hands on hips and angry enough to breathe fire. She glared first at Lilith, then at him, and then back again.

“Well?”

“It was her fault,” Loki and Lilith protested in unison.

The cook blinked once or twice, swept another look around the room, and picked up the carry bag she’d dropped at her feet.

“I don’t care _whoever_ did this- I’m going out to market to find something to serve for dinner.” She slung the bag over shoulder. “This kitchen better be _spotless_ by the time I get back.”

She slammed the door behind her, leaving them staring at one another.

“I don’t think I want to know what’ll happen if it isn’t,” Lilith whispered.

Loki picked up a dishtowel.

“Yeah, me neither.”


End file.
